


If I Could Read Your Mind

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 12:47:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After all their years together, Napoleon discovers Illya has a secret music desire.  Written for Older, Not Dead Promptathon 16</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Could Read Your Mind

I opened one eye only to stare directly into the golden eyes of our cat, Freddy Flyball.  She is misnamed but by the time we figured out that he was a she, it was too late.  She yawned widely and I was assailed by fish breath.  

Then I became aware of three other things, almost all simultaneously.  First, my partner, friend and lover of over forty years had managed to cocoon himself in the afghan meant for both of us and he’d left me a single corner.  Second, there was a throbbing in my ear that told me our other cat, Little Bear, had arrived on the other side of my head.  Lastly, I had to pee like a mad dog.  It’s something they don’t tell you about old age.  I figured my joints would ache, my reaction times would slow, but no one ever warned me that my bladder would be reduced to the size of a peanut.

I shifted slightly and held my breath.  The gentle snoring from the other side of the bed continued on unabated, while the purring on the other escalated.

When we first adopted Little Bear, we were told that once you earned the love of a Russian Blue, you never lost it.  What they failed to mention was in all the ways that love would be delivered.  A captured bug, a fallen leaf, or like now, the moist rumbling in my ear were all versions of that love.  Illya would laugh and praise the cat for his thoughtfulness while I disposed of his gift.  

Taking a deep breath, I got my arm out from beneath Freddy and sat up.  Before my feet touched the floor, both cats were at the bedroom door, anxiously watching my every move.

This continued as I went into the bathroom, accompanied by aforementioned cats.  There’s something a bit disquieting at having the back of your leg licked as you try to urinate.

Even so, I had a much bigger fish to fry.  

It took just a spoonful of cat food to show me where my furry friends’ true affection fell.  Thus freed, I wandered to the bay window and looked out.

The beach and sand dunes were a flat beige against the gray ocean and an even grayer sky.  The day reflected my mood.  It would be Valentine’s Day soon and I didn’t have a clue what to give Illya.

I pulled on a sweater, gathered up the mail from floor in front of the door, and walked out onto the porch, hoping the brisk salt air would clear my head.  We’d been through so much.  We’d managed to survive being Section Two agents and even held it together to be able to retire from UNCLE.  Our bodies carried a lifetime of scars gained saving the world from itself, but our hearts only carried love for each other.

This year marked our fortieth Valentine’s Day together and I wanted it to be something that would knock his socks off.  But what?  There wasn’t very much I didn’t know about Illya anymore.  We’d live out of each other’s back pocket for years before we took our relationship to the next level.

Sitting down in my favorite Adirondack chair, I stared out at the waves churning up onto the beach.  The wind was just barely able to carry the sound to me.  I sifted through the letters, not much of anything really personal.  Most of our colleagues were either dead, washed their hands of us, or moved on.  There were a couple of bills, several catalogs, and some magazines.

“Hey,” Illya’s voice was just over my shoulder.  I’d long ago given up being surprised by him.  “Did you have a good nap?”

“Until someone stole all my afghan,” I murmured, smiling as he leaned into my kiss.  It was frequently a pain in the ass to live out here, but it did permit us freedom from prying eyes for moments like this.  It made the isolation worth it.

He settled into his own chair and began to thumb through the catalogs and magazines.  For a long time we sat, each one of us content to just be with the other.  

I heard Illya heave a sigh.  Quickly, I darted a look at the cover of the magazine he held.  It was _Jazz World_. One of his favorites.   He was staring at a page and he had a wistful look in his eyes.

I set my _Sea and Spray_ issue aside. “I’m going to go get some coffee.  You want some?”

“That would be great, but I’ll do it.  You make it and I won’t sleep tonight.”  He closed his magazine, but not before I spotted a page number.  He dropped it onto the porch.

“I could think of other things to do instead.”

His crooked smile told me that he would be ready, willing, and able.  That was my Russian.

He walked inside and I scooped up his magazine, making note of its position, and quickly fingered to the page.  One side was an ad for a new sound system, but the other page.  That was the goldmine and I hadn’t had a clue that he’d even ever been interested in performance art.  Suddenly, I knew exactly what I had to do.  Why this would appeal to Illya was of no concern.  It was something he longed for and that was enough for me.  All of a sudden, the day wasn’t quite as gray or cold as it had been a moment ago.  I had the flicker of a plan burning within me.

Hearing a noise, I returned the magazine to the porch and went back to my own.  Illya appeared at the door and looked puzzled as he studied me.

“What’s wrong?” I had to ask.

“The last time you looked like that, you’d just swindled the pseudo King of Brunei out of a prince’s ransom.  You want to share?”

“Just sitting here thinking how lucky we are.  We really have it all, you know?”

“That we are.”  He handed me a cup and I saluted him with it.  

                                                                ****

He had not a suspicion what was going on when I suggested we head into San Francisco for a few days.   We frequently went into the City for a break from the monotony of the beach life.  Don’t get me wrong, I love the sand and the surf and taking our little sailboat out to ride the waves, but still there is something about walking through Union Square, hearing the clang of the cable cars, and feeling the thrum of life around you that is both reassuring and invigorating.

“Where do you want to go for dinner tonight?”  He was wearing the new shirt and tie tack I’d given him for Valentine’s Day, just as I was wearing his gift of a new tie and Mother of Pearl cufflinks.  Yes, they do still make shirts that require them.  Our other gift to each other had come in a very different package that morning.  

The shirt was perfectly tailored to him and the color was perfect.  It was all I could do to keep from throwing him on the bed and having my evil way with him.  However, we’d had a rather enthusiastic go of it this morning and I was no longer a young man.  Instead, I contented myself with the knowledge of the evening ahead.

“I’ve made reservation at a new place.”

“Do you want me to call a taxi?”

“Nope, it’s all taken care of.”  I checked my watch.  “In fact, we need to be downstairs now.”

“Hmm, my curiosity is piqued.”

When he saw the limo, he looked back at me.  “Napoleon…”

“Yes?”

“What is going on?”

“No clue.”  I ushered him in and we drove through the streets in all the comfort the limo could afford.  When we pulled up in front of a blue and yellow tent, he looked first at it, then back at me.

“I don’t believe it!”  He laughed.  “You’re kidding, right?”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”

“How did you know?  I never said a thing.”  He climbed out and hurried up the stairs to the front doors.  A young woman wearing a copious amount of feather boas and a huge smile.  

“Welcome to Teatro Zinzanni, Mr. Kuryakin.  You are expected.”  She stood aside and a man, dressed very much like Count Dracula gestured my partner into the tent.

Whatever I spent to arrangement this night, it was worth it to see the little boy excitement in those blue eyes.   All night long, he laughed along with the antics of the Teatro’s talented staff, sang, and even got up and danced with me.  The food was great, the wine was perfect and Illya was the happiest I’d seen him in a long time.

And I had to admit, it was nice to know that even at our age, I could still surprise the most important thing in my life, my own Russian Blue.

 

For more information on Teatro Zinzanni, check this out:  http://zinzanni.com/

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
